Charlie and Nick: A Heartstopper FanFic

Cowboys and Motorcycles

Charlie got home from work around 6 p.m. and found Nick sulking on the couch in a pair of sweatpants and a jumper he had nicked back from Charlie. He looked haggard and defeated, so Charlie slipped off his shoes and joined him on the couch.

Nick greeted him with a kiss, his mood elevating to a tiny degree. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” Charlie told him with a smile. If Nick's mood was low, then Charlie would raise his own mood to even things out. He couldn’t count the amount if times Nick had done the same for him and it always helped, even if only a little bit. “How was yours?”

“Fine,” he replied. “Normal Saturday. Chores, relaxing, playing videogames. I finally got around to finishing Red Dead Redemption 2.”

Charlie laughed. “It only took you four years.”

“Shut it,” Nick said as he ruffled Charlie's dark hair. “I was busy.”

“Too busy to help your gang? Selfish. What would Hosea say?”

Nick made a confused face. “Who’s Hosea again?”

Charlie simply chuckled and shook his head. “The story might be better if you remembered the plot and characters.”

“Maybe I wasn’t playing for the story,” Nick countered. “Maybe I just wanted to shoot stuff and rob a train.”

“Did you rob a train?”

Nick hesitated. “No. I was too far into the story…”

Still laughing, Charlie cuddled his small frame up to Nick’s as Nick welcomed him with an arm around his shoulder. Sweetly, Charlie pecked Nick’s stubbly cheek. He hadn’t shaved for about a week and Charlie was finding this scruffy look quite attractive, even if kissing Nick now left what felt like rug-burn around his mouth. With his facial hair growing out, Nick looked so much more adult and well, kind of badass. He reminded Charlie a little bit of that motorcycle show from the US. It starred a Brit named Charlie Hunnam, a gorgeous man if there ever was one. Mr. Hunnam, like Nick, was fair haired and Nick’s beard would probably look a lot like his. Charlie looked forward to seeing it grown out a little more.

Nick turned his face to Charlie’s and kissed his lips. When he pulled away and looked into Charlie’s eyes, Charlie could see misery hiding behind a soft façade.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he wondered.

Nick sighed, still holding Charlie with one arm. “Mum called. She told me I was being stubborn about Christmas and I should act my age.”

“Well, she doesn’t understand. If you told her what happened--"

“I can’t,” Nick stated. “She’s his mum, too. I don’t wanna put her in the middle. Fuck David, but I’m not ruining my family over it. I'd end up being the one pushed out, not him.”

“He's the one acting like this. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know. I don’t wanna risk it, though. For all I know, he’ll make something up that makes them hate me. Tattling to our mum could just muck everything up even more.”

Charlie thought for a moment. “What did you say, then?”

Nick shook his head in defeat. “That I would be civil for Christmas.”

This was upsetting to hear. “Why should you have to be civil when he is always horrible? It isn’t fair.”

“Since when is life fair?” Nick replied as he stood from the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“To lie down. I don’t feel well.”

Charlie had never seen Nick in such a defeated state. Hesitantly, he followed him to the bedroom, climbed into bed, and spooned his poor, sad fiancé. “I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“You didn’t,” Nick told him. “I'm tired of this, that’s all.”

“I know. Can I do anything to help?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” he said. “Maybe distract me.”

Charlie gently kissed the side of Nick's neck. “I can do that.”